The Slip
by plug in delaney
Summary: A quick drabble of dialogue about a humourous incident between Ron and Draco while 'in bed' one night.


The Slip

Draco runs a hand through his hair. "It started just like any other night. The almost habitual ripping off of each other's clothing, which end up on the desk, the top of two of the four posters for the bed, and dresser somehow." Ron smiles to himself as the blonde continues.

"Lips and finger running over and attacking whatever surface it touches as a need thrives in our bodies. Things get thrown around and tossed aside because, well, I need to take this insatiable prick where I can. Textbooks, lamps, and clocks being knocked over and broken in my private dormitory to make way for the scrawny frame and the object of my erections…"

Ron looks up, confused, "Don't you mean,_ affections_?"

"Umm…sure Ron." He smiles at his own cleverness. "Anyways, I have this kid on the settee tonight. Sometimes I just take him in the doorway. A lot of the time the table will suffice, sometimes we even make it to the bedroom but rarely do we fully make it to the bed. Why bother? The couch works just fine, soft and cushiony for Ron and the end of the thing makes everything so much easier. I mean, his bum is right positioned up, and I can even stand while doing him!"

"Draco…" Ron pipes out, a bit embarrassed.

"What?" the Slytherin looks at him innocently. "At this point you were salivating like a dehydrated dog in the summer and pulling me on top of you, begging for me to "take you now or you'll die"? Is that how you phrased it? I understand if you're incredibly hard by the mere sight of me but there is no need to be dramatic…"

Getting defensive and folding his thin arms, "Me, dramatic? You were the one whining for 40 minutes straight to get away from your own best friend's party, of all events, to "fuck me senseless" as you put it!"

Draco shrugs, "So? He'll have other birthdays…"

"…and you'll have other hard-ons," Ron chimes in.

Throwing a look of scorn, "Well I'm not too sure about that, you sure gave me a swift kick down there that night…" Shaking his head, he sighs, "Can I finish the story? Anyways, so I'm on top of him and he's on the sofa with his legs wrapped around my waist, situating me in an uncompromising position. The fact that his hand is pulling on my cock, bringing even me closer to a) him and b) orgasm I have no time to grab," he coughs, "certain 'essentials'."

He continues, "Ron doesn't care though. He thinks he can take me without lube and I'm dripping from his skilled hands so I just thrust in. We've established a rhythm and I'm working on him with my one hand while the other is underneath him bringing extra support to his back." A small smirk sneaks across his face. On Ron's face is an expression of slight hurt because he knows where this is going.

"Staring straight into my eyes are his piercing blues and in between moans and hard-pressed kisses he screams out 'I love you Draco' as he explodes with more force I've ever felt against my stomach before."

A slight pause, "Love!…" he exclaims. "Love?…"

Another pause. "How the fuck do you think being romantic is by proclaiming a feeling during sex, of all things!"

Ron clears his throat, trying to get out of this, "Well…what makes you think I meant it? Fuckin' hell…you moan out to Krishna, Buddha, _and_ Allah and you don't worship any of them!"

"True," Draco notes, "But when I didn't reply, you shove me off you and kick me right in between the legs, leaving me in excruciating pain…and still hard!" The look on his face hints that he's still a bit bitter at that last bit.

"Love hurts, mate." Ron snaps back.

Draco's voice rises, "It doesn't have to, you little twat! Why do you always expect things for the worst?" He notices how his anger affects Ron, whose eyes are lowered.

Decreasing the volume to an almost soft whisper, the blonde continues, "I love you… I was just in shock when you said it. As you said, I tend to blurt out whatever, because my body is doing everything. Try fucking and thinking…not possible!"

Ron's the one caught off-guard now. He lifts his head up to clarify what he thought he just heard, "What did you say…?"

Looking into his eyes, Draco smiles. "I love you Ron. Why else have I only been fucking you lately? Why, after every time, do I always go to bed with you and wake up to your sleepy, yet warm and sunny face? I'm not doing a favour to you…quite the contrary, actually."

His eyes brightening, "So, that's why you didn't talk to me at all yesterday?"

"No…I was still pissed about you kicking me in the bollocks! That really hurt," Draco responds, pouting slightly.

Ron pouts as well, "I'm sorry…suppose I can make it up to you?" A shy smile, trying not to be a cheeky grin, shows.

Draco sighs, "I suppose…" A smile can't help but seep out.

"Why are you telling me this?!" Harry shouts suddenly, interrupting the glances between the two.

The Slytherin smiles, "Hey you asked."

"No I didn't…I asked where my sock was!" Harry retorts, "I'm not supposed to be your shrink or something!" The two share a confused look at the muggle term but before either could inquire further behind the profession, the brunette leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

Ron shrugs and gives Draco a big kiss, repeating the utterance that was before an accidental confession, now being a line he intends on using a lot more often.


End file.
